Flee!

It would seem that I'm all set up to go back to PMO. I tried to do it the Marine Corps way and send all my requests thorugh my "chain of command" i.e. "hey Cpl. or Sgt. Fucktard, I need (insertsomething they don't care about here), do you think you could look into that for me?"

Yeah, well that, as usual, that went no where. So when my chance came I as all over it. One of the members of the MACS-2 Pack of Lieutenants asked in an off hand and joking manner whether or not I was "ready to go back to PMO".

"FUCK YES SIR"

Once he realized that I wasn't joking and I was affording him the chance to fill a billet that nobody else seemed to want the wheels began to turn. So, I'm stokdd to have the cahnce to go back, and who knows? Maybe I'll just stay this time.

Oh Shame!

I've been absent of my blog for the past couple months because nothing of any worth has happened in that time except for misery, hate, discontent, masterbation, adultery, mutiny, and the degradation of my very soul. Same shit. Oh, I quit smoking.

Anyway I just wanted to post a little confesion here for my friends that know me. I need help. I've become so desensitized by the wonderful technology that is the internet and the wonderful stupid-enhancing drug, alcohol, that I've officaly run out of porn to wank too. No joke. It's so bad that if it didn't involve something horrible or totally wrong then it just wasn't going to work for me. S&M? Cliche. Scat? Fun for about a week. Beastiality? That shit is illegal and I wouldn't look at it...all the good shit is in Spanish or Filipino anyway. Incest? You can only watch a fat Russian mom pimp her two kids together for the camera for so long. Even BME doesn't hold that special place it used to. Thank Chirst for the Japanese eh?

We have a hump tomorrow which the Marine Corps like to call a "Forced March". Here is how it breaks down here in the Air Wing of Beaufort South Carolina:

1.) Get pack.
2.) Fill pack with shit.
3.) Get Body Armour and Helmet, put on.
4.) Get rifle.
5.) Assemble into two lines.
6.) Walk quickly around the base.
7.) Go home, take shower.
8.) Bitch about how fucking stupid that was.

A little more about step #8: This mission critical training regimene is, of course, coming down from the Pack of Lieutenants that is running my unit. Let me just say that when one is in the Marine Corps he or she just expects a certain level of stupid bullshit, it goes with the territory of working for an ego-centric, inclusive goverment agency oriented toward breaking shit and hurting people (an organization that for the most part I believe in). The insanity of the Pack of Lieutenants reached a critical state in this present circumstance when they dictated that nobody was to be exempt from this hump regardless of the current mission. Now my unit does a specific job. It is the only reason my unit exists in the place that it does. This mission is in direct support of Flight Operations, which is the entire reason the base itself exists. Besptie this we are supposed to cancell any and all missions we have for the afternoon in order to attend this hump. Because the Uber-Lt of the Pack Lieutenants (soon to be Captain Fuck-wit) is "re-building" the unit in his glorious image because soon the infinnelty more qualified CO will come back from Iraq then leave. Joy.

I'm now far to drunk to finish this post, will return later to fix galring typos and misspellings. Later.